I don't believe in happy endings
by Sarunya
Summary: A happy ending turns out to be much harder to face than his own impending doom. How do you live your life, when you'd already accepted your own death? Why, with the help of a certain ferret, of course. HPDM. Slash.
1. Chapter 1

**I don't believe in happy endings**

 **Summary:** A happy ending turns out to be much harder to face than his own impending doom. How do you live your life, when you'd already accepted your own death? Why, with the help of a certain ferret, of course.

 **Pairing/s:** HP/DM, perhaps more in ze future once I've decided this fic's course.

 **Warnings:** Depression, forms of self-harm and some other psychological issues. Slash, eventually, probably.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, nor do I make money writing this. I also don't have a Beta. Just enjoying the practice!

 **Chapter 1**

Harry watched in slow motion as Voldemort's body hit the ground. A surreal whirl of emotion, sound and colors engulfed him. It was finally over. His battle was over. In a daze, he looked up and around him. Death eaters retreating, Aurors heading after them, students sobbing and hugging each other. He locked eyes with a stunned Malfoy, who stood not too far across from him. Relief. In that moment, he realized that was the only emotion he could truly recognize in the turmoil that was still going on inside him. The same emotion was reflected on Malfoy's face. Startled, he realized that Malfoy was crying. Silent tears were streaming down his face.

As if on its own account, his battered and bruised body started moving towards the crying boy in front of him. The small voice in his head telling him that this was a bad idea, was easily to be ignored by the numbness he felt. Stopping in front of Malfoy, he searched his face. He had been right, relief still appeared to be the major emotion on Malfoy's face as well. There were some other emotions displayed as well, but at the moment he was too exhausted to give it any thought. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around the other boy, and noticed the faint tremble in his body. There was a quiet gasp next to his right ear, somehow seeming way louder than any of the sounds surrounding them. He felt Malfoy's arms wrapping themselves gently around him as well. Harry let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, and rested his forehead on Malfoy's shoulder. And then, Harry's knees go weak, and the world goes black.

 **000**

A quiet chirping of some early birds in the background is the first thing he noticed, before slowly opening up his eyes. Other than his heavy limbs, Harry actually feels quite good. No headaches or pains assaulting him. He fumbled around for his glasses, and noticed them on the nightstand next to him. Shoving them onto his face, he got up and looked around. Grimmauld place. Someone seemed to have moved him here after the battle. The quiet of the house felt rather eerie, a stark contrast to the flashes from the battle that invade the inside of his eyeballs whenever he closes them. When his stomach made a sound, he decided it was time to discover whether or not someone else was around. Upon arriving downstairs, he found Hermione sitting at the large kitchen table, sipping a mug and reading the Prophet. Harry stopped in the doorway and leaned against it, simply watching her.

It didn't take long for her to notice his presence.

"Harry." She looked at him, searching his face and appearance. "You look better. How do you feel?"

Harry thought about that for a moment. In all honesty, he didn't feel much yet. "Hungry.", he replied.

A faint smile slid across her face. "Come sit down. I'll grab you a mug of coffee and something to eat. I think Mrs. Weasley actually left some things yesterday."

Harry sat down and rubbed at his face. He was getting a little scruffy, he noticed. Perhaps he could ask Hermione to perform a razor charm on him; he hadn't quite managed that one himself yet.

A moment later, Hermione came back in with a mug of coffee, a loaf of bread, jam, butter and two plates floating in front of her. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid this is all there is at the moment. We can go out and pick something up later?"

They looked at each other, the significance of that one sentence hitting home. Finally, they were able to go outside, no longer in hiding, no longer on the run.

Hermione flopped down in her chair, a grin on her face. Harry's face split into a big grin as well, which then turned into silly giggles. Soon the giggles turned into laughter, bordering hysterical. They both were holding onto the table for dear life, wiping tears off their faces. With some alarm however, Harry noticed that the tears wouldn't stop falling. He looked at Hermione again, and saw tears streaming down her face as well. Slowly, he reached across the table, and grabbed her hand. They stayed like that for quite some time.

 **000**

"Harry?"

He looked up. Hermione stepped through the fireplace of Grimmauld place, spotting him at the kitchen table. Harry had been staring at the Prophet for the last hour or so, without actually reading it.

"There you are. I think- I think we're ready now."

It had been over two weeks since the final battle. There had been a lot of funerals, most of which Harry didn't attend. That was a part of this new reality which he hadn't quite come to terms yet. Often he replayed the last exchange of words with Remus, or the last time he'd seen Fred and George together. Snape's memories. It was too much.

He slowly nodded in response.

Ron and Hermione were going to Australia, to find her parents, in an attempt to restore their memories. Harry realized it would also give them some time to develop their relationship without any horcruxes, near death experiences or evil wizards hunting them down. It was why he had insisted to stay here.

She had tears in her eyes now. "I will miss you so much, Harry. You know we'll write as much as we can, and keep you updated on what's going on. Please take good care of yourself. I'm worried."

Harry stared at her for a moment, blinked and then got up from the table and moved around it, wrapping her in his arms.

"I'll miss you." Was all he could manage.

In the last week, Hermione had ensured that Harry got up every morning, had eaten breakfast and had a Prophet to read. She had talked about her activities, her research to retrieve her parents' location, and what was going on with the Weasleys. As Harry himself hadn't left the house during that time, she had been his only source of information. It had distracted him from the nightmares.

Through her, Harry had also learned that he had passed out in Malfoy's arms. He still wasn't sure how he felt about that. All he seemed to remember was Malfoy's tear-streaked face. Ron apparently had been quite displeased with his actions, although Hermione had tried to defend his case, saying that Harry just had been exhausted. Everyone had been out of sorts at the time being, after all. Even so, Ron had decided to distance himself from Harry for the time being. And now he was going away for an unknown period of time.

Harry supposed he should feel upset or angry about that. However, it turned out that lately, he didn't feel much of anything anymore. The numbness he had felt after the battle seemed to have settled down in his bones, leaving him constantly exhausted. He hadn't even begun to sort through his emotions yet. It was all too overwhelming, and he had locked everything away, as he was locking himself away in Grimmauld place. Funny, that after all this time, he seemed to have developed a sense of understanding for Occlumency. Remembering Snape's memories once more, he thought he finally understood the man's affinity with Occlumency a bit more. He wished it would help with the nightmares, though.

Harry shook his head to rid himself of the thoughts, and slowly disentangled himself from Hermione's fierce hug.

"Hermione," He said quietly, nudging her. "You should go. It won't get any easier this way."

She smiled at him through her tears. "You're right," She said, wiping her face. "Please reply to our letters when you can. I want to know that you're alright."

He nodded, and walked her to the fireplace. As she grabbed the floo powder, she looked back one more time. Harry managed to put a reassuring smile on his face. "Go." He whispered.

With that final look, she was gone. Grimmauld place had never felt so empty before.

 **000**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Some days, the walls of his room seemed to assault him, leaving him short on breath, and pacing through the house to find a room with enough space to keep him from going insane. Other days, his bed in Sirius's old room felt like his only safe place, the only place to hide him from the shadows. Then there were days that he just didn't feel anything at all. There were days that the nightmares were too much, and he would only stare at the ceiling, willing sleep away.

Today was one of those days where he couldn't be bothered to leave the bed. His hunger had died down long ago, leaving him with a stomach feeling just as empty as his soul did. The reality of the losses of the war finally seemed to have hit him. No more Remus with his words of wisdom and his warm embraces, or Tonks to cheer him up with a snout or a different hair color. _They had a son._ Their son was an orphan now, and after some thinking Harry remembered that little Teddy would be in Andromeda's care now. Although often plagued by guilt, he realized that meant he had some time to pick up the pieces that were formerly known as one Harry Potter. There were a lot of pieces.

He could even use one of Snape's snarky comments now. " _The Chosen One, loitering in bed all day, feeling sorry for himself. Even I expected more than for you to stoop this low."_

As always though, the thought of Snape brought him back to that last vial of memories the man had left Harry with. And Dumbledore… Harry squeezed his eyes shut, driving his fingertips into his eyeballs until he saw stars. No, not yet. He hadn't quite overcome the fact yet that Dumbledore had lead him on like that for such a long time. Every time he had spoken to the man, he had known. And yet, he had always been given bits and pieces of information, never enough to figure out the whole picture. Dumbledore had left him with a snitch and a missing sword, which Snape eventually had gotten to him, he realized now. The facts of his apparently dreadful relationship with a man he had always looked up to brought him a wave of nausea.

Harry suddenly got up and started pacing the room, the space too small for the amount of poisonous thoughts feasting on him. Had the man ever cared for him at all? Had his own worries and fears and grief been justified, knowing now that he had been nothing more than a tool to win the war to this man? He halted. Unknowingly, he nails scraped at his bare knees, leaving angry red streaks across his skin, some starting to bleed. It was too much. Everything was too much. In his building rage, he slammed his fist into a wall, some of his knuckles splitting. Blood was spilling from his hand, but he didn't notice. Drained, he sagged against the wall, sliding down, and curling into himself on the floor.

 **000**

Hours later, or perhaps it was mere minutes, Harry woke up. Sense of time was something that had abandoned him quite a while ago. He had no need for it anyway. Realizing that his limbs were a mess, he slowly stretched them one by one and moved to get up. Wincing when he used his knuckles to push himself up. Thirsty. He moved to the closest restroom to drink some water. Then he dragged himself back to the bed, and slumped down on it. He didn't bother to cover himself up with the blankets that were a heap at the foot of the bed.

 **000**

Sometime later, he woke up again. This time, he realized, it was dark. It was a tapping sound which had woken him, rather than waking up from being thirsty. His senses turning into something more alert, attempting to take in his dark surroundings. He found he didn't even have his wand on him. When was the last time he had held his wand? Startled, he realized that he was completely vulnerable like this. He mumbled a quick, wandless, accio. Unsure if it would work at all, as he'd never actually tried to summon a wand without a wand. Shaking his head, he waited and listened again. It seemed to be more of a scratching sound now, coming from one of the far windows of the room.

Harry almost jumped when his wand finally flew into his hand. Yes!

With a new burst of energy coming from his little success, he jumped and rolled over behind the drawer, and peeked over it. The curtains were drawn, he couldn't see a damn thing. Cursing inwardly, he flicked his wand to move the curtains away, ready to blast the window out if need be.

A bird! _A bloody fucking bird._

He cursed at himself for being on high alert for a damn sodding bird tapping at his window, and moved over to open it. At the same time, he felt all the pent-up energy leaving his body all at once. His shoulders slumped, and he had to put his shoulder to work to actually manage to open the window.

After that straining task was done, the bird flew towards the bed, perching itself up on the wooden railing of the headboard. Sighing, Harry moved towards it. Probably one of Hermione's letters, he thought absent-mindedly, not recognizing the bird.

He grabbed the letter, and flopped down on the bed.

 _Potter,_

 _Can we talk?_

 _\- DM._

The letter didn't say anything else, but Malfoy's tear-streaked face immediately appeared in front of him. How long had it been since he'd seen Malfoy? Weeks? Months? Once again his sense of time had abandoned him, and he signed irritably.

Did he want to talk to Malfoy at all? What would there even be to talk about?

 _Great seeing you again, Malfoy! Probably not much going on for you now since you haven't been able to cozy up any Dark Lords lately, have you?_

He shook his head, reprimanding himself for such thoughts. Malfoy appeared to have been as much of a victim of circumstances as he'd been. Harry couldn't blame him for his choices, even though they had been mostly the wrong ones. They both had been under pressure, being put upon them by their surroundings. Harry was put into the role of a savior, while Malfoy had been put into the role of a Death Eater, a murderer even. The fact that he didn't actually seemed to have killed anyone, was admirable in a way.

Was that good enough a reason to agree to meet him, though? Harry contemplated again what Malfoy could possibly want to talk to him about.

What if they were planning on locking him up?

Immediately, a block of ice seemed to have settled in the pit of Harry's stomach. What if Malfoy needed his help? Did anyone even know that Malfoy wasn't a killer? Harry had always screamed on the top of his lungs that Malfoy was up to something, after all.

He couldn't let Malfoy get locked up.

Quickly, he grabbed a crumbled old quill and scribbled a reply on the back of the parchment. He gave it back to the patient bird who had been following his every move since settling down. As soon as it had the letter attached to its leg, it flew back out of the window. He watched it disappear into the night.

When the bird was no longer visible, Harry slumped back on the bed, curling up in his familiar fetal position once more. This time however, his thoughts worked at full speed. If he would have to defend Malfoy in a case against him, he had better start thinking of the times that the git had actually helped him instead of working against him. It wasn't going to be an easy task explaining his actions.

Harry didn't realize it was the first time in weeks that he had no intention whatsoever to cut off his train of thoughts.

 **000**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Apparently he had been drifting off to sleep again, because the next time he opened his eyes he saw a watery ray of sunshine creeping through the window. The bird was sitting next to his head, pecking at his hair. It had another letter tied to his feet.

Harry bolted upright, grabbing for the letter, ignoring the indignant squawk from the bird.

 _Potter,_

 _How about noon, today? Meet me at the Shrieking Shack._

 _Only reply if you can't make it._

 _\- DM._

Noon? Finding his wand next to him, Harry casted a quick tempus. Fuck. Noon was in less than an hour.

Realizing the terrible state he was in, he bolted towards the shower. Good habits such as showering, brushing teeth or combing hair had not been something he had worried about lately. At all. It was something he cursed himself for as he looked into the mirror now, though.

He looked like pure shit.

His cheeks seemed to have hollowed out even more, although he had always thought that to be impossible. Dark circles under his eyes, scruff covering his chin and some of his neck, and his eye were bloodshot. Fuck.

Putting the image of his terrible appearance out of his mind, he stepped into the slowly heating shower. He shivered as the half warm water hit him. The smell of unwashed clothing and old sweat wasn't one he was planning on sharing with Malfoy, though. Thus, he scrubbed his body until his skin was red and raw, and he felt less like an actual piece of garbage. He could still look like one, but at least he would smell half decent.

Stepping out of the shower, he wrapped a tower around his abdomen, which immediately slid off again. Looking down at himself, he realized he probably had lost some weight. Maybe a lot.

Harry shrugged and tugged the towel more tightly around himself. Tough luck.

It was time that he assaulted his tooth with a toothbrush and his hair with a comb, although he quickly gave up on the latter. Both him and Malfoy knew that his hair being anything but a bird's nest was never going to happen, anyway.

Finishing up brushing his teeth after some minutes (it had been a week or so since that had been done, after all) he moved back to his bedroom and opened the closet. There were clothes on the floor, but he had worn those many time already. It was time for something fresh, if there was even such a thing left in his closet.

He pulled out a black long sleeve shirt, which had always been rather big on him. Therefore he decided to cover it up with a dark-grey hoodie. After the not-so-hot shower, he was still feeling chilled down to the bone, anyway. A hoodie was perfect. He found a clean pair of boxers (one of the remaining two) and then grabbed a black pair of jeans that always felt a bit itchy. It was the only semi-clean pair left, though.

It would have to do for now.

Harry grabbed his wand off the bed, and casted another Tempus.

Time to go.

 **000**

The brightness of his surroundings blinded Harry for a few seconds, after he had apparated to the Shrieking Shack. Quickly looking around, he found Malfoy waiting for him, leaning against one of the less saggy walls of the shack. Their eyes locked once more.

Once again, Harry saw his own emotions reflected on Malfoy's face.

Wariness.

Loss.

Pain.

Malfoy seemed to snap back to reality first, and he quickly cast his eyes down. Harry inhaled deeply.

"Why am I here?" Harry couldn't help but ask. After all, he didn't have a clue what Malfoy was up to, what his reasons were for summoning Harry here. All he knew was that he had to find out. He had to know.

Malfoy looked up to him again, seemingly studying Harry's appearance for a moment. It made Harry somewhat uncomfortable. He curled up his fingers and hid them deeper in the sleeves of his hoodie.

"I… I don't know if you can help me." Malfoy spoke quietly.

"Malfoy. You're right, if you don't tell me what's up, there's nothing I can do. So, spit it out."

Malfoy seemed to have come to this conclusion as well, but still seemed somewhat hesitant. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment.

"It's already too late for my father- they've locked him up with a life sentence. In Azkaban. I know it's not the same, and I know it won't mean much to you, but it's killed my mother. It's killing her, Potter. There won't be much left of her for them to throw into Azkaban. As for me…" He stopped for a moment and took another deep breath.

"I'm not asking for you to come to rescue me again, Potter. Merlin knows that has happened a couple too many times already, and I have not much to offer in return. But, if they lock me up, I know it will do her in for sure. I'm all she has left." His eyes looked pleadingly at Harry.

Harry in turn had taken the time to study Malfoy during his rant. The shaking hands, the tiny beads of sweat on his temples. The dark circles under his eyes, the grey undertone of his skin. His bony frame. There really wasn't much left of the Malfoy he knew.

"Please." It wasn't much more than a whisper.

Harry sighed, closed his eyes and rubbed at his temples. Suddenly, he flopped down onto the grass.

Malfoy jerked, almost as if to grab hold of Harry.

"Malfoy… Look," He said, with a small wry smile on his face, poking some dirt with his trainers. "I haven't been out of the house much, other than to attend the funerals. I haven't got a clue what the hell is going on in the wizarding world right now. I know nothing of the chaos. I know nothing."

Honestly, this sort of had been what he was expecting. The desperate please, was not part of that though. Sure, he thought maybe Malfoy would try ask for his help. To use his powers as the 'Chosen One' once more. What he did not expect however, was this broken boy in front of him. It left him sort of at a loss for words. It left him empty.

"Potter, I need you. There is no one else."

"What do you expect me to do, Malfoy? What do you want from me?" His attitude from not knowing if Harry could help him, to needing him, seemed to have switched quite swiftly.

"You don't need me, Malfoy. You need the Chosen One." He looked away, poking at some more dirt. "Nobody needs me." Harry muttered.

"Honestly, I'm not even sure if the Chosen One is going to be enough to safe us, Potter. Tryst me, I'll need all of you." Malfoy gave him a little smirk, although it faltered as quickly as it had appeared. "This won't be easy," He continued, swallowing.

Harry looked back up to Malfoy at that.

He slowly nodded.

"Things never were easy with you around, were they?"

 **000**


End file.
